Mistake
by The Emcee
Summary: Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson has been berating and degrading John Cena for far too long. Well, Randy and Wade have a problem with that and they decided to take care of it. Slash. Violence. Randy Orton/John Cena Wade Barrett/John Cena


A/N: I thought of this while I was in the shower. It's set during this year's Wrestle Mania. It contains slash, mpreg, a weird relationship…thingie, and violence. So, if you don't like any of those things, then don't read this. That being said, those of you who press on, R&R and enjoy!

_**Mistake**_

Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson walked down the hallway towards his personal dressing room. Wrestle Mania had just ended and he was in high spirits. Having beaten that yaba daba-ing Fruity Pebble, John Cena, Dwayne felt as though the event had gone far better than he had hoped. Ever since he had first met the fruity, tootie snow cone, Dwayne felt as though he needed to be knocked down a few pegs. Cena was way too energetic, way too happy, and way too annoying to deserve the position he held in the WWE. Most of his so called talent was actually pure, dumb luck and opportunities given to him by other, more experienced wrestlers who actually thought he would amount to something. However, Dwayne knew differently.

John Cena would never amount to anything. Not in his book, anyway. Aside from his lack of talent, Cena was annoying. He always smiled, was almost always butting into conversations that he had no business to be in, and he was a freak. Seriously.

It wasn't a secret that Cena preferred men. Actually, to be more accurate, there were only two men that John had ever been with, and they were Randy Orton and Wade Barrett. Their relationship wasn't a threesome; Orton and Barrett didn't love each other in the romantic sense of the word. But they both loved John. They loved him enough that they shared him, and, from the looks of it, they were all happy in their twisted, disgusting relationship. Hell, Cena had even given Orton a child. A son, to be precise, and rumor had it that he was going to try to provide Barrett with his own child here shortly. Such things made Dwayne want to vomit. Who in their right mind would actually put up with a relationship like the one Cena shared with Orton and Barrett? And who would want to be with one of those men who could actually become pregnant?

It wasn't natural and it wasn't right and Dwayne found the entire relationship vile and disgusting. Had he been in Vince's shoes, he would have fired Cena, Orton, and Barrett on the spot after having found out about them. But Vince was getting too soft and he was letting things slide all too easily. And why? Just because Cena was the face of the company. Dwayne thought it was bullshit and he hated knowing that the WWE had been distorted and morphed into such an abomination, one that allowed not only homosexuals but male carriers to work and thrive in the company as well.

Which was why his victory over Cena was that much sweeter. It proved to Vince, to the WWE universe, and to John motherfucking Cena himself that Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson was superior in each and every single way. He proved in front of one of the largest crowds that Wrestle Mania has ever had that freaks like Cena were nothing but garbage who couldn't talk the talk, much less walk the walk. Pride swelled inside of his chest as he smirked, recalling how he had put his boot to Cena's ass several times during their match. Seeing the look on that freak's face when the referee had held his arm up in a sign of victory made Dwayne want to kick Cena's ass again for good measure.

It took him no time at all to make it to his dressing room. His adrenaline rush was beginning to wear off and Dwayne was glad that he could now relax and wind down in peace and quiet. Opening the door, he stepped inside, still smirking, his chest still swelled with pride. But before he could turn around and make himself comfortable, he was hit over the head hard and his world faded to black.

…

Time passed. It must have because his arms and legs were stiff. His vision was slightly blurred when he first opened his eyes and he felt groggy and…off. Almost as though he had been drugged or something. As his senses returned to him, Dwayne realized that he was tied to a chair that was situated in the middle of a room that must have been a basement of some sort. After his vision had cleared, he looked around as much as he could, but he found nothing that gave his location away.

Panic started to boil inside of him, but he forced himself to remain calm. Perhaps if he tried to loosen the ropes that bound him, he'd be able to break them and escape. Dwayne struggled against his restraints for a good five minutes, but he was met with zero luck. Whoever had restrained him had done a good enough job that he wasn't going to break free any time soon. Not without help that is. His only option was to call out, yell, shout, or scream, or do anything that would catch the attention of someone who could help him.

Just as he was about to call out, a door, from somewhere behind him and out of his range of sight, opened. Footsteps followed and the door closed. From what Dwayne could tell, there were two people in the room, but he wasn't entirely sure. Neither of them spoke. Silence was the only thing that kept Dwayne from his freedom, but he couldn't find his words. For some reason, he suspected that whoever had stepped into the room weren't his biggest fans. Hopefully, he was just being paranoid and anxious. If not, well…

The footsteps started up again and they moved slowly. Pacing. But they never entered his line of sight. Even if they had, it would have been hard to make out the owner. The only light that was on in the room was the one over Dwayne's head, and it wasn't the brightest light and it certainly didn't have the widest range.

Dwayne listened to the footsteps walk back and forth, back and forth, for a good ten to fifteen minutes. His anxiety was rising and he was beginning to let his panic take hold of him. More than anything, he wanted to be untied and let out of the room and he was willingly to do anything or say anything that would give him that freedom. Eventually, the footsteps drew closer and, at long last, the owner stepped into the light. Because the man was standing behind him, Dwayne couldn't see his face, but he could see a little bit of his shadow. Upon seeing the shadow, his panic started to recede and hope began to rise within him. The shadow was muscular, but not as much as Dwayne, which meant that, if he managed to break free from his restraints, he might be able to take down his captor. However, that all depended on if he'd be able to break free and that didn't seem like an option. Not at that point in time, anyway.

The shadow remained rooted to its spot for five minutes or so before it moved along with the footsteps. This time, they came closer and drew around the circle of light until Dwayne saw his captor. His dark eyes narrowed and he glared daggers as none other than Randy Orton himself stood in front of him, his pale eyes staring down at Dwayne coldly. There was no trademark smirk on the Viper's face and there was no humor or anything of the sort in those haunting eyes. Whatever was going on was personal and it was quite obvious to anyone with half a brain that Orton was pissed off.

Extremely pissed off.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson himself." Dwayne glared up at him, but he had no time to respond. Orton kept talking, but his expression never changed and it only served to alarm Dwayne even further.

"How are you feeling, Dwayne? Are you still pumped up and proud at what you did to John on that stage? Do you feel empowered? Like you did the universe a big, fat favor? Well? Do you?"

"What the fuck do you care, Orton? Let me go or I will beat the living shit out of you and then sue your ass for all you're worth." Randy smirked, but it lacked the usual humor and farce.

"Oh, I care, Dwayne. I care a lot more about it than you do, apparently. You see, what you did to John in front of all of those people was uncalled for." Dwayne tried to surge forward, but the chair wouldn't budge. Orton's smirk widened and he stepped forward and crouched down, so that he was only a few feet away from the People's Champion.

"How did it feel, Rock, to drag John into the ring and beat him so bloody and badly that he couldn't even respond to the referee? How did it feel to bring that steel chair down on his body, the body that I worship and make love to almost every single fucking day?" Orton was so close that if Dwayne wanted to, he could have head butted him. Had it not been for the second person in the room, he would have. However, he was stupid. He knew that, if he did something to Orton, he would get it even worse from the other guy.

"You've humiliated John time and time again. Every chance you got, you criticized him, put him down, and tried to destroy him." Orton's pale icy blues bore into Dwayne's dark eyes and the anger, resentment, and hatred that burned within those pale orbs was enough to make Dwayne's heart beat quicken. Whatever was going to happen here was not going to be good. Not for him, at least.

"Did you know that John was teased mercilessly as a child? Did you know that he despises himself for being able to carry children and give birth, even though it's one of the most beautiful things on the entire planet?" Dwayne scoffed.

"Oh please. That Fruity Pebble doesn't have one insecure bone in his fucking body." Orton growled and grabbed Dwayne's chin hard enough to prevent him from saying another word.

"Do know nothing, Johnson. _Nothing_. John puts on a very, very brave face, but the things you say and do to him hurt him just as much as any physical injury he's had. This storyline that you're involved in is taking its toll on him because of one thing and one thing only, and that's you." Gripping his chin in an impossibly hard grip, Orton tilted Dwayne's face side to side, examining it, and he sneered.

"You know, John has nothing but the utmost respect for you. He thinks that you're just following the script and that your dislike and anger towards him is nothing more than an act, just like it's been with all of the other storylines he's been in. If he knew that you actually hated him and found him as repulsive as you do, he'd be upset. Extremely upset. And why? Because, to him, this storyline is just that: a storyline. If you knew him, really, truly knew him, you would have realized that he respects you just as much as he respects Bret Hart or Shawn Michaels." Orton released Dwayne and he stood up. Another smirk began to spread across his face slowly and his eyes shone with a perverse sense of delight.

"But you're just a homophobic, prejudice bastard who thinks he can leave for years and come back acting as if he owned the place. Well, we're about to teach you a lesson that you will never forget." Orton looked passed Dwayne and nodded to the second person. Footsteps approached and within seconds, Barrett stepped into Dwayne's sight. He looked just as livid as Orton, but it was obvious that Orton was the one in control.

"Tape him, Wade." Barrett, who was holding a large roll of duct tape, tore off a long piece before he crossed the few feet separating him and Dwayne. Even though he was tied to a chair, Dwayne refused to cooperate and made it harder than hell for Barrett by dodging and biting at him. Luck wasn't on his side this time though, and he soon found himself in Orton's grasps once again while Barrett taped his mouth, making sure that he wouldn't be able to anything more than mumble.

"There, the big mouth is taken care of. Now, it's time to move onto more…entertaining things." Orton and Barrett stood up and gave Dwayne some space. Struggling in a foolish attempt to try and break free or gain some sort of control, Dwayne twisted and maneuvered his body. He growled and mumbled into the tape, trying to roar and yell profanities at his captors, but it didn't work. On the contrary, Orton seemed more amused by his futile attempts than worried.

"Oh, believe me, Johnson, you definitely want to take that tape off. Because you'll need a way to vent your pain, frustration, and sorrow after we're done doing all of the things that we're going to do to you."

Barrett walked away and left the room. Not even a minute later, he was back, carrying what looked like a tool box of some sort. Only it was bigger and held a lot more than just the average tools that were needed for day to day life. Kneeling down, Barrett opened the tool box and handed Orton what looked like garden shearers. Taking the sheared from Barrett, Orton made sure that the shearers were in proper working order before he looked at Dwayne, a sadistic, evil grin spreading across his face. He crossed the space that separated them and he bent down so that his pale eyes bore into Dwayne's dark ones.

"We'll start with something nice and easy, like a warm up. Then, we'll move on." Orton walked around Dwayne until he was out of sight. But Dwayne could feel him and he knew that Orton was right behind him, where his hands were.

"Wade."

Barrett walked past Dwayne and out of sight, making his way over to where Orton was. As Orton grabbed one of Dwayne's hands, Barrett grabbed the other, making sure that the two hands were kept away from each other so as not to interfere. Dwayne's panic increased when he felt those garden shearers touch his index finger. Instinctively, he jerked, trying to get away, but he was bound and gagged and there was no way out. Orton fought with his hand for a few seconds before he jerked it hard enough to hurt the appendage. Knowing that his struggling was futile, Dwayne gave in, making it easier for Orton to do his deed. The shearers returned and were placed on his fingernail. With a force that surprised and shocked him, Dwayne felt those shearers tear his fingernail from his finger and he gasped into the tape, feeling pain after a delayed reaction.

He had no idea to recover because as soon as Orton had torn away that nail, he was working on the other. All the while, Barrett held onto the other hand, keeping it steady and making sure that Dwayne didn't struggle and make things harder. A surprising pain flooded his fingers, but Dwayne had felt worse. Way worse. Still, the sensation wasn't something that he had ever wanted to experience and he knew that this was only the beginning.

…

"Are you okay?"

Randy looked over at Wade, who was studying him with green eyes filled with concern. He turned back to the sink and put his hands underneath the steady stream of cool water. The blood on his hands began to wash off and was carried by the water down the drain. As Johnson's blood washed away, the bite mark that Randy had received when he first started to work on Johnson's teeth became more apparent. Seeing the mark made his anger flare once again, but he forced himself to remain calm and in control.

After he had made quick work of Johnson's fingernails, he took the shearers to his toe nails, breaking, tearing, and pulling each nail away. Hearing the muffled grunts and moans of pain made him slow down so that he could drag it out as long as possible. Once the toe nails had been removed, Randy took a wrench and twisted each toe until the bones snapped and tore through the skin. That really made Dwayne cry out and it was music to Randy's ears, even if his cries were stifled by the tape wrapped around his mouth.

When he had broken each toe, Randy laid the wrench down beside the garden shearers and dug through the tool box for his spiked brass knuckles. He found them soon enough and then he started looking for Wade's. They were a team, after all, and they had one ultimate goal: make Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson pay for all of the bullshit he put John through. Their John. The man that they loved more than anyone else on the planet. Randy may not loved Wade, but he was more than willing to share John with the Englishman so long as it was what John wanted. And Wade loved John as much as Randy did, so he was just as pissed and tired of Johnson's bullshit as Randy was. So, together with their spiked brass knuckles, they punched Johnson's body, making sure that every time they landed a hit it hurt that much more.

And the sounds Johnson made told Randy that his punches were hitting their mark. It made him feel lighter, happier, because it meant that Johnson was suffering. Just like he had made John suffer. While Randy attacked from the front, Wade attacked from the back. Then, when it was time, Randy went for Johnson's face. The blows broke his nose and made him bleed and watching Johnson struggle to break free made his smirk all that more sinister.

Randy tired of the brass knuckle treatment after a while. Taking them off, he grabbed one of the knives that he had in the tool box and checked to make sure it was sharp enough before he told Wade to get his sledgehammer. Wade retrieved it and, on Randy's mark, he swung and hit Johnson's ankles, breaking them and shattering them. The sound was sickening and oh so sweet to Randy's ears, especially when Johnson cried out, his hands opening and closing as pain consumed him. But Randy wasn't done.

With his knife, he craved into Johnson's legs and thigh, cutting deep enough that it tore through tissue and muscle, but not too deep that it immobilized the older man. The point of him cutting into Johnson's body wasn't to remove limbs or make sure that he couldn't move; it was to send a message. Randy craved the words _homophobe_, _prejudice,_ _pig_, and various other words that would scar and tell the world just what kind of person The Rock really was. Once he was satisfied with his handy work, Randy removed a nail from the tool box, heated it up with a lighter, and pushed it through Johnson's left eyeball. Oh, hearing the screams and cries of pain from the People's Champion was worth it and Randy couldn't help but relish in those screams. As he twisted the nail in the left eyeball, Wade took a heated up nail of his own and stuck it in the right eyeball. Hearing the screams from the normally arrogant, cocky, and self-centered man made them both smirk and filled them with pride and a sense of accomplishment.

Last, but certainly not least, Randy tore the tape away from Johnson's mouth and attempted to pry his mouth open. That was when Johnson bit him, leaving a mark on his hand. Swearing, Randy punched Johnson before he smacked him in the jaw with a hammer. Being careful not to make the same mistake again, Randy pried Johnson's mouth open and, with a pair of wire cutters, ripped out each tooth individually before he cut out Johnson's tongue. The blood that flowed over his hands was hot and sticky, but Randy didn't care. All he cared about was John and the pain and suffering he had been going through ever since Johnson started all of his shit.

Were it not for Johnson, John wouldn't be rethinking their relationship. Were it not for Johnson, John would be wanted to take time off to have Wade's child instead of avoiding it all together. Were it not for Johnson, John would be happy. He would be smiling and laughing like he used to. Were it not for Johnson, John would be himself instead of the hesitant, unsure shell of a man who didn't want to be touched or to touch his lovers. It made Randy want to cry, and he had never been one to tear up easily. He wanted John back, Wade wanted John back, and they wanted to be happy again. They wanted to be a family again.

Grabbing the dish soap, Randy squeezed some into his hands and began rubbing them together. He watched as the bubbles turned a reddish pink color before he rinsed his hands. At long last, his hands had returned to their normal state.

"I'm fine. Did you call John?" Wade nodded.

"Yeah. He's fine. He wants to know what we plan on doing with Johnson now that he's…ah, a lesser man than he was before." Randy grinned and looked over at Wade as he dried his hands off.

"We're going to release him into the desert. He knows that, if he's rescued before he dies, that he's not to mention a word of this." Wade laughed. Randy's grin widened and he corrected himself.

"I mean, assuming that he can still talk, of course. But I don't think he'll last long out there. His blood's still wet and fresh. He'll be dead in no time."

"Good. Now, let's get our shit and go. I've got the house set up. The fire will wipe out everything."

"I like the sound of that. The sooner we get our shit, the sooner we can be on our flight back to John." Wade patted Randy on the back as they made their way down the hall and towards their respective bedrooms.

"John can't wait to see us. I think he's finally coming back to us." Randy's grin softened into a smile and he walked into his room, getting ready to grab his stuff and go.

"Good. A happy John…that's all I'll ever want." And now that Johnson had been taken care of, Randy was sure that John would return to his old self. From what Wade had told him, it seemed as though John was already starting to open back up and that was all Randy wanted.

_The End_


End file.
